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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24610897">yet so distant</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsongothic/pseuds/crimsongothic'>crimsongothic</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anger, Angst, Caring, F/M, Gentle Kissing, Heartache, Hurt/Comfort, Knights - Freeform, Older Man/Younger Woman, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protectiveness, Retelling, Running Away, Treason</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:09:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,935</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24610897</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsongothic/pseuds/crimsongothic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>a retelling of season 1 and 2, (and perhaps a bit of 8)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. the beginning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this could be bad, idk. i wrote it very late at night, they just make me feel a certain way y'know?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The first time Sansa meets the Hound, she isn’t scared. He assumes she’s frightened, and Joffrey ends up doing the very same. That isn’t it at all. Sure, he had surprised her, but he wasn’t harsh. Sandor had been explaining who Ser Ilyn Payne was, or at least getting around to it, before her betrothed interrupted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His face didn’t scare her either. Of course, she had caught glimpses in Winterfell, he wasn’t some new spectacle. She knew he was close to the royal family, and therefore she could trust him. Ser Ilyn on the other hand, was what had sent her into a panic. No one gave her the chance to say so though. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Joffrey sent the Hound away. At the time, she didn’t give him a second thought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>During the Hand's Tourney, Petyr Baelish tells her a story. One that if she repeats it, he swears the younger Clegane will never allow her to repeat anything again. Yes, she’s scared to have that knowledge, afraid she’ll blurt it out at the wrong moment, as ridiculous as that sounds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But there’s a twinge of pity inside her, because she could understand the Hounds perspective in all of this. It wouldn’t be fair for everyone to know the most traumatic incident in your life, and for them to spread it around like gossip. Meanwhile, the monster that did it to him gets to be a hero of jousting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Later on, Loras Tyrell almost dies at the hands of Gregor. Sansa is scared for him, he had been kind to her. But then Sandor steps in, or forces himself really, and her fear shifts. When King Robert tells them to stop, and the Hound kneels, her heart stops for a moment, believing that the Mountain will not do the same. He storms off, and she can breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sandor claims he is not a ser. Sansa doesn’t see why he isn’t, with how well he saves people. Loras lifts his hand, and a forgotten rose tumbles out of her hands. Her eyes don’t leave him, until the Hound has taken his side by the royal family.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She still loves her prince, that is not something to be doubted. But with the way her father speaks of her not trusting anyone in King’s Landing, she doesn’t want that rule to be applied to the Hound. Sansa just has a feeling. Arya would only call it foolish belief, so she keeps it to herself. Joffrey is happy, and in turn so is she. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When everything seems to be going at the almost perfect rate, of course they must take a turn for the worst. Her father is arrested. She runs. Unfortunately, she does so right into the arms of the Hound. She threatens to tell her father, or even the queen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who do you think sent me?” The sinister grin plastered across his face is one she hasn’t seen before. Thoughts race through her mind. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If I’m the daughter of a traitor, does that make me on the opposite side of everyone else? And if I’m on the opposite side of everyone else, what is he allowed to do with me?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She backs away, but her efforts are futile. His arms are long, and can reach her before she can run. The Hound’s grip is forceful, but it doesn’t hurt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t struggle or make me do something I’ll regret.” He leads her through chamber after chamber. She goes along, numb. They reach their destination, and Sansa can already see multiple important figures, presumably waiting for her. Her father isn’t there to tell her what to do, or more likely not to do. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do whatever they ask, only think about yourself.” He whispers it in her ear. The door shuts behind her. She doesn’t follow the advice completely, asking to speak with Ned. The look of disappointment on Cersei’s face causes her to backtrack though. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sandor has taken enough interest in her, she realizes, for him to offer true advice outside of what he's ordered to tell her. Sansa hopes that makes him a friend. Her father and her septa are killed. Arya goes missing. She soon realizes, the Hound might be the only friend she has at all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Joffrey takes her out to see her father’s head. There’s sadness at first, but after that, all she feels is rage. She wants nothing more than to push him over the edge, for the new king to fall to a quick death, and for him to never have a chance to rule. He doesn’t deserve it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sandor stops her. She wants to scream at him, so many thoughts, questions that are unanswered.<em> Why don’t you let me? He treats you like an animal, and yet you still protect him with your life. I thought you were looking out for me, yet when Ser Meryn hits me you do nothing. It’s not as if I feel it, but you watching on, that hurts.</em> The words never leave her tongue. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wipes the blood from her lips, and Sansa believes herself a fool. She knows she’s not worth interfering with the king’s orders over, that could very well result in death for him. If this is the way he can help her, so be it. The Hound tells her to keep the cloth, and although the idea of needing it again makes her cry at night, it remains as a gentle reminder, and a soft way to dry her tears. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. the middle</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>On the King’s Name Day Sandor defends her desperate attempt at backtracking after telling Joffrey that he can’t kill Ser Dontos. Sansa knows him. He doesn’t believe the superstition just as much as Joffrey hadn’t up until he had said something. Yet he defends her point anyway, and that’s got to mean something.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Later, he approaches her in a hall, and Sansa regrets running into him like she always does. He comments on how she’s come out to play, how Joffrey wouldn’t want her wandering about. He goes on about how Joffrey will have her soon, how he’ll be taking her in every sense. It’s not the threat she perceives it as. No, Sandor is warning her, but not doing a good job of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My wedding night will be the happiest-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop that!” Sansa doesn’t need to lie to him, because they both know she’s absolutely miserable, and her wedding will be just the same. Sandor desperately wants her to know that he, of all people, knows Joffrey’s ways, and would never get her in trouble for speaking against him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re hurting me, please ser!” But he isn’t hurting her, not really. Sandor has definitely broken her lies down to their core, because he sees her feeling for what they truly are. Being in that vulnerable state is what really burns Sansa. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Perhaps she shouldn’t have called him ser. Sandor tells her just that. He’s no knight, he doesn’t know how many times she’ll make him admit it. He’s only degrading himself further, as if the Crown hasn’t done that enough already. Sansa keeps calling him a ser, because he’s the one who’s been nicest to her. That’s the worst bit, because he’s not the nice type at all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re his bird. Would you sing a song for me, little bird?” The request is only to bring the attention off of himself, but Sandor can only imagine how warm it would be to hear her sing. “A song about knights and fair maidens. Come on, sing.” Because Sansa deserves a real knight to protect her. Not Joffrey, and certainly not himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You won’t hurt me.” No he won’t, and it’s both terrifying and a relief for her to recognize that. Sandor releases her, and neither knows what to do afterwards. The Imp interrupts them, and unable to tell Tyrion what they’re in the midst of, since it’s really nothing, he stumbles over his words, eventually leaving. Sansa looks on as he goes, wondering why he has to leave her so confused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They meet again in the throne room, a crossbow trained at Sansa’s face. Her eyes keep finding Sandor’s, quickly looking away before Joffrey can realize what she’s silently begging the Hound to do. He knows what she’s asking, for him to put a stop to the King. If he thought there was any actual threat of Joffrey shooting her, he would. He knows the boy though, and he’s not going to kill her. Not yet anyway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then Ser Meryn starts to beat her. Sandor again, doesn’t interfere. That would only mean a worse time for the both of them. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a deep guilt for what he’s standing by happening. In fact, he makes a promise to himself to help her escape, and soon. He looks away not because he can’t stand what he’s doing, (he can’t, but that’s not why) but because Sansa doesn’t need his eyes on her in such a state. Tyrion interrupts as he has a habit of doing, and for once Sandor is relieved at his presence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Someone get the girl something to cover herself with.” That’s Sandor’s queue. He rips his own cloak off his back, even if it’ll only provide the smallest shield for her against the world. Sansa hugs it to herself, drawing in reassurance that the torture is over for now. As he placed his cape on her, she was reminded of husbands cloaking their wives.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Myrcella leaves soon after. Sansa had thought the worst part of her day would be seeing the princess off. They weren’t particularly close, but they had formed a bond that wasn’t hateful, and Sansa didn’t like losing acquaintances. Even the young ones were valuable. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The unpleasantness didn’t end with Myrcella rowing away though, it was too early in the day and Sansa shouldn’t have hoped for such. Riots start, the people seem to have just as much hate for Joffrey as she does. They don’t know that though, and the only thing standing between them and her are some spare handmaidens. They mean well, but don’t do much. She’s separated from them quickly, and in her attempt to escape, runs into men who mean her harm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>During the fighting, Sandor has his arm around Joffrey, but Sansa has his attention. When his eyes lose her, he passes the King off to the nearest knight who will take the brat. He pushes everyone out of his way that tries to stop him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In a room not far from him, the men are forcing themselves onto Sansa. In that moment she thinks that this can’t be how it ends, that it’s not fair. Joffrey should have shot her with that crossbow and gotten it over with. Never has she been more terrified than she is right now. Death is quick, and what these men want to do to her won’t be. Her fighting back only makes it worse, and for a split second she wishes there was a way to end her life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sandor arrives, and he saves her. The Hound kills every man in that room, and Sansa’s eyes watch on. She doesn’t truly process what happens while it is happening, only once she’s slung over his shoulder does she understand the atrocities she had witnessed, and was at the hand of. She sobs in his arms, whispering thank yous over and over. If he had only been a few minutes later, neither want to think about it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well done Clegane.” Tyrion tells him, as if he did it for the Imp, or Joffrey, or the Crown. No. He was only thinking about the bird, and how he cares about her. It’s been a long time since he’s felt that way about anything, which makes it all the harder to not focus all his attention on saving her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sandor doesn’t see her that night, or the day after. He hears maids whisper of how she won’t leave her bed. He can’t blame her, and even Joffrey has enough sense to not force her out. The reasoning could also be based in embarrassment, but the Hound doesn’t see an issue with that if the girl is being left alone. He does see her that night though, and it’s in the most unusual of situations.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A sounding on his door never means anything good, so when he hears it he’s tempted to tell the knocker to fuck off. The mood he’s been in lately prevents him from doing so, and against every response he’d usually make, he answers. He was expecting knights, telling him he’s late for his watch, or rarer but still possible, Cersei or Tyrion. Not Sansa though, never did he think she’d show her face in this part of the Red Keep. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you for saving me.” She doesn’t crane her neck to meet his eyes, instead keeping them trained on the floor. “From what I hear, no one else even bothered. You were so brave.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Brave? A dog doesn’t need courage to chase off rats.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Does it bring you joy to scare people? Better yet, does it make you happy to pretend that you don’t care about me in the slightest?” He ignores the second question, only focusing on the first.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, it brings me joy to kill people. Spare me, you can’t tell me Lord Eddard Stark never killed a man.” He regrets bringing up her father as soon as he does so, but she seems too angry to care. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was his duty, he never liked it!” Now she meets his eyes, vexed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that what he told you? He lied. Killing’s the sweetest thing there is.” A small girl won’t change his opinion on that, it isn’t something he can be lectured out of. If he’s an expert on anything, it’s murder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why do you have to be so hateful?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have I ever been hateful towards you?” Sandor asks, perhaps too irritated, as she cowers. He backs off slightly. “I’ve continually stood between you and Joffrey, and I’ll keep doing so when you’re queen. Tell me little bird, what’s one hateful thing I’ve done towards you?” She continues to glare at him, her brows furrowed searching her mind for anything, but coming up with naught. “Come, I’ll walk you back to your room.” She goes along with him, trying still to come up with an answer the entire way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sleep well little bird.” Sansa nods. She’d tell him that she can’t sleep lately, that all she gets is nightmares of the day previous, but she doesn’t want to burden him with that information. He nods in return, and travels back to his respective quarters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Stannis’ forces attack, the night starts and ends with a kiss. Joffrey demands she kiss Hearteater, and she does so the lightest her lips are able. She only grazes the metal, disgusted at the threats he’s making with it. Perhaps if her kiss doesn’t mean well, then he will be granted bad luck. The sword she truly wants to bless is behind him, but she knows the Hound doesn’t need luck.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Later on she’s made her way into her room. Fearful out of her mind, the doll catches her eyes. To think she ever rejected it from her father, she’s ashamed. A voice cuts through the air, </span>
  <em>
    <span>much </span>
  </em>
  <span>closer than the screams outside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The lady’s starting to panic.”</span>
  <span></span>
    <br/>
  
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“What are you doing here?” She hugs the doll to her chest. He doesn’t know the answer to her question, and per usual, chooses to ignore it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not here for long. I’m going.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where?” She asks, and truth be told, the answer lies in whatever decision she makes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Some place that isn’t burning.” Her hair glows like fire in the current light. It’s the only flames he doesn’t mind. “North, might be. Could be.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Will be, if she joins him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about the King?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He can die just fine on his own.” He takes a long drink. He doesn’t need courage to kill, but talking to her, he finds he can’t go on without it. “I could take you with me. Take you to Winterfell.” He stands to get closer to her. “I’ll keep you safe.” He’s made the same vow to other’s before, but for her he’s ready to die keeping it. “Do you want to go home?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be safe here.” She tries to tell him, though it only seems like she’s trying to convince herself. “Stannis won’t hurt me.” He’s angry at himself for letting her believe in a wannabe king more than himself, but he would never expect her to think anything else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look at me. Stannis is a killer. The Lannisters are killers. Your father was a killer. Your brother is a killer. Your sons will be killers someday. The world is built by killers, so you better get used to looking at them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Believe me Sandor, I see you. Maybe you’re a killer, but you have a heart.” He growls at that, but only because he knows it’s true. “You won’t hurt me.” She steps closer to him, a twist from her usual backing away. Before he knows what her plan is, she’s reaching up, and kissing his cheek. As gently as he’s able, he pushes her away. She’s a child, one who doesn’t need to be caught up in his nonsense. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No little bird, I won’t hurt you.” He turns to walk away, and makes eye contact with her. Sandor silently asks one more time if she’ll join him, but the answer remains the same. His rejection and her staying both hurt the other, but were equally as expected. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>kudos and comments are always appreciated, they make my day!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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